As a White Knight - Reprise
by ChrisCalledMeSweetie
Summary: A fresh perspective on As a White Knight on His Steed
1. Prologue

**Summary:** Here's Darren's first person account of how he and Chris met as kids at horse camp, and then came back as counselors to fall in love and explore all of the ways they could lose their virginity together.

**Story Notes:** If you haven't yet read _As a White Knight on His Steed_, I recommend that you start there, since that story provides the background and context for this one.

**1. Prologue - **_**Darren tells it like it is…**_

Hi! I'm Darren Criss. I'm 18 years old, and I'm madly in love with my best friend. This is the story of how it all happened.

Please bear with me if I seem to get a little over-enthusiastic in the telling. My friends tend to compare me to an overgrown puppy. Well, most of my friends do. My new roommate, Joey, says I'm too short to be described as overgrown, so I'm just a puppy. I'd take offense, but he's actually totally awesome. I'm sure we're going to be the best of friends. Or, at least, the second-best of friends. 'Cause no one will ever be my _best_ best friend except Chris.

It all started when I was 8 years old. My parents signed me up for a week at a place down near Santa Cruz called Ride 'Em Cowboy Ranch Camp. My older brother, Chuck, was off at some sort of sleep-away camp of his own, and looking back at it, I think Mom and Dad just wanted me out of the house for a week. So they could do, you know, grown-up things.

Anyway, the first person I met when we arrived was Chris. I instantly got a crush on him. No – of course I didn't know it was a crush at the time. I was 8 years old. Give me a break. But I knew right away that I was drawn to him.

_… To be continued?..._

**End Notes:** If you'd like to read more, let me know. :D


	2. Sorry So Short and Sloppy

**2. "Sorry So Short and Sloppy"**

Darren's POV on Chapter 1 of _As a White Knight on His Steed_

1998

I was always a pretty easy-going, confident kid, but I would have been freaking out about my first night away at camp if it wasn't for the comfort of knowing that Chris was asleep beneath me. _No – not like that_. Come on, now, get your mind out of the gutter! We were _eight_, remember? But having him in the bottom bunk, even though I couldn't see him or touch him, was like a security blanket for me.

That first summer, Chris just seemed like the epitome of cool. He'd already been at camp for a week before I arrived, so of course he knew all of the counselors, all of the horses, all of the routines, all of the best places to sneak away for a few minutes when we wanted a little break from the rest of the boys. I thought he knew _everything_.

Looking back, now, I realize that Chris got as much out of our friendship that summer as I did, but at the time I felt like the tag-along little brother – a role I was quite comfortable in, since I'd spent my whole life following my totally awesome real-life brother, Chuck, around like a puppy. I looked up to Chris so much. I wanted to be just like him, and I wanted to be near him all the time.

One week together was nowhere near long enough. When our parents came to pick us up, we convinced them to sign us up for three weeks the following summer.

I must have driven my mom a little crazy on the ride home, talking about Chris non-stop, 'cause I remember her saying, eventually, with that super-patient voice she sometimes got, "Honey, I know you and Chris had a wonderful time together at camp. And I know you're really excited about getting to spend time with him again next summer. But remember, you have other friends at home, and I'm sure he does, too. I don't want you to be too disappointed if he doesn't have time to write to you."

_What?!_

I _knew_ Chris would write to me. We _promised_ to write to each other. And it didn't matter if I had other friends, or he had other friends. We were each other's _best_ friends.

My mom usually seemed so smart, but in this case, she clearly just didn't get it.

I still have every letter Chris ever sent me. I've re-read them dozens of times, and each one is special in its own way. I think the one I treasure the most, though, is the first one he ever wrote.

_Dear Darren,_

_How are you? I'm fine. But I miss you. I can't wait to see you again next summer. Do you miss me? You're my best friend. Am I still your best friend? I hope so.  
><em>

_Love,  
><em>_Chris_

_P.S. Sorry so short and sloppy. I'm writing this in the car on the way home from camp._

**End Notes: ** I'll echo Chris by saying "Sorry so short." I'm guessing that the chapters in this story will vary quite a bit in length, depending on how much Darren has to say about each of the events in _As a White Knight on His Steed_. I don't want to simply repeat that story, nor do I want to put words in Darren's mouth just for the sake of making this longer. So I hope that you'll be satisfied with some short (but hopefully sweet) chapters, and that I can make up for my limited word count by giving you frequent updates.


	3. Why Do You Have To Be So Gay?

**3. "Why Do You Have To Be So Gay?"**

Darren's POV on Chapter 2 of _As a White Knight on His Steed_

1999

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I'm a touchy-feely kind of guy. That's been true my whole life. It's true with my family, it's true with my friends, but it's always been the most true with Chris.

From the moment we met, I felt like Chris and I were connected emotionally, and for me that translated into wanting to be physically connected, as well. Our first summer at camp, we walked around holding hands constantly. It just felt natural to have his hand in mine. I never stopped to think about it, and it certainly never occurred to me that anyone might have a problem with it.

When we returned to camp the following summer, Chris and I picked up right where we'd left off. Being physically affectionate was a big part of our friendship – we'd hug, we'd roughhouse, we'd bump shoulders or sit with our knees touching. And nearly everywhere we went, we'd hold hands. Everyone knew we were best friends, and everyone was cool with that.

Until Max showed up.

…

I'd heard kids at school say "That's so _gay_!" and then everyone would go "_Oooooh!_" and look around to see if the teacher had heard someone using a bad word. And then, of course, growing up in San Francisco, I knew there were people who were gay. But I'd never associated those two things.

I guess, in my mind, 'gay' was one of those multiple meaning words that Mrs. Wilson taught us about. Like 'hard' can mean the opposite of easy, or 'hard' can mean the opposite of soft. She even brought a bag of cotton balls and a bag of rocks outside one day, and set up some empty plastic water bottles for us to try to knock down. She had us predict which would be harder to throw, and which we could throw harder. Man, that blew my mind. Do you have any idea how hard it is to throw a cotton ball? No one could even hit the bottles, let alone knock one over. Our aim wasn't that much better with the rocks, but at least when someone did get a hit, the bottle would fall over with a satisfying _thunk_.

Most of the kids were just so excited that the teacher was actually letting them throw rocks (instead of sending them to the principal's office for even thinking about it) that I'm not sure how much they were focused on what she was trying to teach us. But it really struck me – the magic of words, and how the same one can mean two totally different things.

That's how 'gay' was in my mind – one meaning was the opposite of cool, and one was the opposite of straight, and the two meanings were the opposite of each other.

So, at first, when Max said, "Why do you have to be so gay?" I thought he meant, "Why do you have to be so lame?" (Which was another one of those multiple meaning words that I hadn't thought about until I got to camp and heard the word 'lame' used in its non-slang form to refer to a horse who was walking with a limp.) And that seemed like a mean thing to say.

Then Andrew, our Horse Sense instructor, stepped in and told Max, "The primary value of this camp is respect. Now, 'gay' is not a bad word, and being gay is not a bad thing. But when you call someone 'gay' with a scornful tone of voice, you are using the word as an insult. That is not something that we tolerate here. I would like you to apologize to Darren and Chris."

And Max said he was sorry, so I figured that was then end of it.

But I was wrong.

So, so wrong.

Later that day, as Chris and I were walking along, holding hands, Max came up behind us and snarled, "Since I'm not supposed to call you 'gay' I should just call you what you are – a couple of little fags!"

That memory still hurts me. Not because of the words themselves, but because of the look they put on Chris's face. Shock, and pain, and then this terrifying, shuttered-down shame. God, I needed to take those feelings away from him more than I needed to breathe.

I wrapped my arms around him, and wrapped my love around him, and willed the world to disappear. But the world did something better than disappearing. It filled up with the voices of all of our friends:

"That was so mean!"

"I can't believe Max was so rude!"

"Don't pay any attention to him."

"He's just mad because you're both better riders than he is."

"Yeah, and he's jealous because he doesn't have a best friend here."

"Don't listen to him!"

And I loved all of them so much in that moment. Not because of the words themselves, but because of the look they put on Chris's face. Relief, and confidence, and that sparkly-eyed aliveness that is just so _Chris_. And suddenly I was able to breathe again.

**End Notes: ** If you want to see how Darren looked in this chapter, click on the link and then scroll down to the picture of him with his brother, Chuck, outside Stuart Hall: (adorkabledarrencriss dot tumblr dot com / tagged / pre%20highschool) Wasn't he a cutie? And if you want to see what makes me update more quickly, try writing me a review. **;D**


	4. Something Magical

**4. Something Magical**

Darren's POV on Chapter 3 of _As a White Knight on His Steed_

1999 – 2001

Even though Chris and I were best friends, we only got to see each other at camp. During the school year, we had to survive as pen pals. Fortunately for me, Chris has always loved to write. I got a letter from him at least once a week, and I always wrote back right away.

When we were in fourth grade, Chris started sending me stories along with his letters. Here's the first one he ever wrote for me:

_Once upon a time there were two boys named Darren and Chris. They were best friends, so of course they did everything together._

_One Saturday morning as they were walking to the library together, Chris said, "I wish Mrs. Peters wouldn't give us homework on the weekend."_

_"__I know," Darren said. "But at least we can do it together."_

_"__Yeah," Chris agreed. "Can you imagine how terrible it would be if we weren't in the same class?"_

_"__That would totally suck!" Darren said._

_They arrived at the library and found the book of fairy tales they needed for their homework assignment. When they opened the book, it started to glow and hum. Suddenly, Darren and Chris got sucked right into the book. They landed in a strange forest._

_Darren and Chris looked around. They were surrounded by the biggest, meanest looking wolves they had ever seen. There were at least a dozen wolves, and they all had huge, sharp teeth and glowing red eyes. The wolves began to come closer and closer._

_Darren and Chris didn't know what to do. They were shaking with fear. They grabbed each other's hands and held on tight._

_Just as the wolves were about to attack, a teenage girl came galloping up on a white horse. She jumped down to the ground and whipped out a pair of ninja swords. She spun the swords around, slashing at the wolves. Her horse spun around, too, kicking wolves in every direction. Pretty soon all of the wolves ran away._

_"__Wow!" said Darren. "That was awesome! Who are you?"_

_"__I'm Goldilocks," said the girl._

_"__But I thought Goldilocks was just a little girl," Chris said._

_"__I grew up," Goldilocks said. "Everyone does. Unless they get eaten by the big bad wolves, that is. So if you two want to live to be teenagers, you'd better get out of here before they come back."_

Isn't that the most awesome thing ever? I mean, imagine being a nine-year-old boy and getting a starring role in a story about wolves and ninja swords, along with your best friend in the whole world.

Of course, I begged for more. And of course, Chris never let me down. Every week he'd send me a new chapter about our adventures in the fairy tale world. Sometimes we'd meet up with Cinderella, or Snow White, or Jack and the Beanstalk, and sometimes we'd encounter random trolls, or goblins, or dragons. But always we'd be together. And honestly, that was the best part.

The following summer, when we were ten _(six whole weeks of camp – yay!)_ Chris introduced me to Harry Potter. It's hard for me to believe, now, that there was ever a time when I hadn't heard of Hogwarts, but like most of the other magical things in my life, that one started with Chris. And in the same way that the stories Chris wrote began with the two of us getting sucked into a book of fairy tales, I felt as though we'd been sucked into a world of witches and wizards and magical beasts. All that I wanted – all that I needed – was to spend that summer cuddled up with my best friend, reading to each other.

The only bad thing about having a perfect summer is that it doesn't last forever.

Have you ever wished for something so desperately that you felt like you could make it happen by sheer force of will? It seemed like camp just _couldn't _end. And then, when it did, it seemed like there was no way we could _possibly_ say goodbye. And then, when we did, it seemed like we'd just _have _to see each other before the next summer.

So here's a weird but true story:

Chris had always seemed a little bit magical to me. Not like he could _do_ magic, but like he _was_ magic. And then reading about Professor McGonagall changing into a cat made me think of how there's something catlike about Chris, too. So all through that endless fifth-grade school year, whenever I would see an unfamiliar cat outside, I would have this fleeting thought of _maybe Chris has come to visit me_.

I knew it was just make-believe (I'm not crazy, no matter what my friends might tell you) but somehow, I always had to get closer, just to check. Sometimes the cat would get scared and run off, and then I'd know it wasn't Chris, 'cause he'd never be afraid of me. And sometimes I could tell by the way the cat was sitting or moving that it wasn't him, 'cause there's something about the way Chris holds himself, and something about the way he moves, that is just unmistakable.

But sometimes I could hold onto the illusion until I got close enough to look directly into the cat's eyes. And then I'd feel this nonsensical wave of disappointment. Because I'd know Chris's eyes anywhere, and they were never there looking back at me.

**End Notes: ** Any Starkids out there? Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Anyone out there have no idea what I'm referring to? Hope you enjoyed this chapter, too. Now talk amongst yourselves – feminist postmodern literature – go! ;D


	5. I'm Afraid I'm Losing You

**5. "I'm Afraid I'm Losing You"**

Darren's POV on Chapter 4 of _As a White Knight on His Steed_

2001

Isn't it ironic that after I'd spent an entire school year pining for Chris so badly that I'd actually been fantasizing that he could turn into a freaking _cat_ to come visit me, when we finally got to see each other again he suddenly felt insecure about our friendship?

That was one of our rare out-of-sync moments, and thank God it didn't last. 'Cause to hear him say "I'm afraid I'm losing you" nearly broke my heart.

But one of the great things about Chris (and there are too many to count – trust me, I've tried) is how brave he can be about letting me know how he's feeling. And another one of the (uncountable, remember) great things about Chris is how quick he is to forgive me whenever I've (unintentionally – 'cause you know I would rather _die_ than cause him pain on purpose) hurt him.

And have you noticed how convoluted and parenthetical my thoughts are, here? Well, that's yet another one of the myriad great things about Chris: he's Mr. Articulate. And one last (for the time being) great thing about Chris is that he can always make me laugh.

So when you put all of that together, it adds up to the fact that once Chris had told me that he was afraid that I'd rather have Harry for a best friend instead of him (which could never in a million, billion, gazillion eons be true) we hugged and talked about it until we both felt better, and then we turned that momentary pain into one of the best games we've ever created.

(Or, at least, one of the best games we've ever created that's suitable for children…)

It started the next afternoon during our riding lesson. Our instructor, Ryan, had just told us – for what felt like the thousandth time – "Remember to keep your heels down, so you don't lose your stirrups."

Chris called out in mock dismay, "Oh no! Come back, stirrups! I'm afraid I'm losing you!"

I had to do a double take. 'Cause after our talk the night before, although I knew we were okay, I didn't know whether we were okay enough to joke about it yet. But apparently we were. One look at Chris's grinning face, and I broke out laughing.

Ryan put on his serious, instructorly voice, and said, "Stay focused."

Which seemed to me like the perfect setup for my next line. "Oh no! Come back, focus! I'm afraid I'm losing you!"

Chris cracked up, clearly delighted that I'd caught on to what he was doing. I couldn't help blowing him a kiss.

Ryan rolled his eyes at us. "You guys are disgustingly cute. You're going to make me lose my lunch."

"Oh no! Come back, lunch! I'm afraid I'm losing you!"

"You both sound like you've lost your marbles."

"Oh no! Come back, marbles! I'm afraid I'm losing you!"

And then we couldn't stop laughing. I mean, we really couldn't stop. My stomach hurt, and then my back hurt, and pretty soon tears were leaking out of my eyes, but every time I tried to get a grip on myself I'd make the mistake of glancing over at Chris, and the way he was laughing just as uncontrollably as I was would set me off again.

Eventually, our other instructor, David, had to help both of us dismount, 'cause we were seriously in danger of falling off of our horses. He told us to go splash some cold water on our faces and come back when we were ready to behave appropriately. But even the realization that we'd just gotten _kicked out of class_ couldn't sober us up. I've kind of blocked the next part out of my mind, but I think I might even have peed my pants a little…

Anyway, from that moment on, the phrase "I'm afraid I'm losing you" was guaranteed to make us dissolve in laughter. By the end of the week, it seemed like all of our friends were tripping over each other, trying to set us up with the perfect lead-ins. I'd never thought about how many things could be lost – losing sleep, losing a bet, losing your mind – it was all grist for the giggle-mill.

One thing you should know about Chris and me, though, is that we're always going to find a way to turn something that's world-class fun into something that's galaxy-class fun. So the verbal version of our running joke was just the beginning. That weekend, we found a way to step it up to a live-action version.

Every week, most of the campers went home on Saturday morning, and the new group didn't come in until Sunday afternoon. That gave the few of us who were staying for multiple weeks the luxury of unstructured time. We weren't allowed to go riding or swimming without an adult, but the counselors trusted us enough to let us go off for a walk in the woods by ourselves.

That first Saturday, Chris and I headed out on our own right after lunch. Have you ever walked through a redwood forest? Stepping out of the sunshine, the temperature instantly drops ten degrees. The duff is soft underfoot, and the trees seem to absorb all sound. It's magical.

Chris and I were strolling along peacefully, when suddenly he dropped my hand and went sprinting off through the trees. By the time I'd recovered from my surprise, he'd disappeared. After a moment's confusion, I figured out what he was up to.

In my most pitiful voice, I called out, "Come back, Chris! I'm afraid I'm losing you!"

No response. As I stood there, perplexed, staring off in the direction I'd seen him go, I was suddenly tackled from behind. I let out an embarrassing yelp as Chris and I tumbled to the ground.

And then we were rolling around, laughing like loons, trying to pin each other down. Chris ended up on top, since the element of surprise was in his favor, and plus he'd partially knocked the wind out of me when we hit the ground. I tickled him until he rolled away from me, and then I scrambled up and took off running.

The woods were perfect for this full-contact version of hide-and-sneak. All afternoon we took turns, one of us running off, the other calling out "Come back! I'm afraid I'm losing you!" and then looking around in the hopes of spotting the one who was circling around behind the trees before a sneak attack could be launched. There were no rules, other than the ones that evolved as the day wore on – most of which seemed to be designed to maximize the amount of time we spent rolling around in the duff together.

By the time we showed up for dinner, we were sweaty and filthy, with redwood needles in our hair and enormous grins on our faces.

Best PG-rated game ever.

**End Notes: ** This chapter in my original story was too angst-ridden for my taste, so this was my opportunity to make some lemonade. Delicious, full-contact lemonade… Mmmm…

Wait – where was I? Oh, yeah – please review. :D


	6. Captain Oblivious

**6. Captain Oblivious**

Darren's POV on Chapters 5 and 6 of _As a White Knight on His Steed_

2002 – 2008

One of the ways in which I hurt Chris (_so, so unintentionally_) was by being completely unaware of the significance of my feelings for him. He was my best friend, and since I'd never had another best friend to use as a comparison, I just figured that how I felt about him was how everybody must feel about their best friends.

If I wanted to be with him all the time, it was because he was my best friend. If I thought he was the funniest, smartest, coolest, and most amazing person I'd ever met, it was because he was my best friend. If I felt the need to be constantly touching him, it was because he was my best friend. And if my heart sped up whenever we were together, well, that must have been because he was my best friend, too. Right?

The final week of our final year as campers, I almost had a glimpse of something more.

I'd been thrown from my horse and briefly lost consciousness. When I came to, Chris was bending over me, lips close to mine.

As soon as I opened my eyes, he flung his arms around me, crying, "Darren! Are you okay?"

I groaned, then nodded. "I think so," I told him. Then I blurted out, "Were you going to kiss me?"

Chris blushed. "You weren't breathing," he explained. "We learned about rescue breathing in health class, and I thought you needed it."

I had this momentary flash of disappointment, and then I quickly told myself _Duh – of course I know about mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Why would I ever think Chris was going to kiss me? I must've hit my head harder than I realized. _

And I just pushed the whole episode right out of my mind. Because I'm Captain Oblivious: able to miss a flashing neon clue in the blink of an eye. It's a bird – it's a plane – _no_, it's _Darren_, once again failing to notice the massive crush he has on his best friend…

Believe me – you can't be shaking your head over my obtuseness any more than I am. And it only got worse from there.

…

Sometimes denial ain't just a river in Egypt.

When camp ended, I guess I couldn't cope with the fact that Chris and I might never see each other again, so I just didn't think about it. At 12, I'd outgrown my magical thinking enough that I no longer expected him to show up on my doorstep as a tabby, but not enough that I didn't still expect the universe to find a way to bring us back together. Maybe his family would move to San Francisco. Maybe my family would move to Clovis. Maybe an earthquake would cause most of the central valley of California to get sucked down into oblivion, leaving San Francisco and Clovis right next to each other. It could happen.

Well, the years went by, and it didn't happen.

Meanwhile, I managed to remain completely clueless about my sexual orientation. You'd think, growing up as a theater kid in San Francisco, that I would have had enough gay role-models to figure it out. But even in San Francisco, I still lived in a heteronormative world. I mean, my parents were straight, my brother was straight, the overwhelming majority of characters on TV were straight, and at school (_Catholic school_) it was just kind of assumed that everyone – including me – was straight.

And for some unfathomable reason, I never really questioned it.

Or maybe the reason was Chris.

I know that must sound totally backwards, but let me explain. If I'd ever been attracted to another guy, I'm pretty sure I would have noticed. But I never was drawn to anyone – girl or boy – the way I was drawn to Chris. Which, yeah, maybe that should have given me a clue, but remember, I assumed that was just the way people felt about their best friends.

And yes, I've heard the saying "Don't assume – it makes an ass out of u and me." So apparently I'm an ass.

But at least I'm a lucky ass. 'Cause the universe did eventually find a way to bring us back together.

**End Notes:** Oh Darren, Darren, Darren… What are we going to do with your ridiculous self? (Well… I, for one, can think of a few things… **;) **)  
>Your reviews make me so happy. And guess what I do when I'm happy? I write! So keep 'em coming. <strong>:D<strong>


	7. Gotta Get Back to Horse Camp

**7. Gotta Get Back to Horse Camp**

Darren's POV on chapter 7 of _As a White Knight on His Steed_

2008

Getting that letter from David and Ryan seemed like fate. I mean, how perfect was it that they'd bought the camp and wanted me and Chris to come and work there as riding instructors? Clearly, Chris and I were destined to see each other again, and Ride 'Em Cowboy Ranch Camp – the only place we'd ever been together – was destined to be the location where it happened.

I mean, if it wasn't about the universe trying to bring me and Chris back together, there would have been no possible reason for me to receive that job offer. I was singularly unqualified to work with children. Except, maybe, for the fact that I still kind of was one.

I thought: _Oh no – I'll have to pretend that the stuff that the kids are doing is bad. Like if kids are throwing rocks and playing with matches, I have to tell them that's bad, 'cause they're, like, tiny, and that's a terrible thing to do, you can get in a lot of trouble. But when I was a kid, that was like the coolest thing to do, was to throw rocks and play with fire. 'Cause that's what you do when you're a kid, 'cause it's awesome. But when you're a camp counselor, you have to be like 'No, don't do that, that's bad.'_

But then I thought: _Well, it'll be okay, because we won't actually be counselors. We'll be riding instructors. So all we have to do is teach the kids how to ride. Someone else can tell them not to play with matches._

But then I thought: _How can I be a riding instructor? I mean, yeah, I got to be a pretty decent rider after five summers at camp, but to be honest, it was never really about the horses for me. If I'd met Chris at underwater basket-weaving camp, I would have spent every one of those summers weaving baskets under water, just to be near him. That wouldn't necessarily make me qualified to be an underwater basket-weaving instructor…. Now don't get me wrong – I love horses. But does that mean I can teach kids how to ride? _

But _then_ I thought: _Who cares? I get to spend the summer with Chris! Yay! Gotta get back to horse camp!_

And that was my final thought on the matter.

…

Man, it was good to see him again. I'd almost forgotten how much I missed him. I mean, for all of my teenage years up until that moment, he hadn't been around. And I'd gone on about my life, and I was okay, and most of the time I was even happy – 'cause by nature I've always been a pretty happy guy – but all along there'd been something missing, and **_Wham!_** – here he was.

Seeing him again was like being struck by lightning, in the best possible way. As though every cell in my body had been electrified, and all of those little atoms were just bouncing around like crazy. Like my blood was filled with champagne bubbles. Which I know in real life would probably kill you, but I didn't feel like I was going to die. Or maybe I felt like I already had, and seeing Chris again was heaven. Too much? Yeah, okay, I know, I get overexcited sometimes. Well, most of the time, when it comes to Chris. Anyway, I was giddy with joy.

The second he stepped out of his car I threw my arms around him. I can't remember exactly what I said, but I know I was babbling something about how much I'd missed him and how great it was to see him.

It felt _so good_ to have him in my arms again. I never wanted to let go, but Chris just gave me a slightly tentative hug before stepping back. Which was okay, because I remembered how it used to take him a few minutes to warm up at the beginning of each summer, after we hadn't seen each other all year. And this separation had lasted _six_ years, so I figured I could give him a little while longer.

"Come on inside," I told him, leading the way into our bunkhouse. "It's kind of small, but we've got the whole place to ourselves. This is gonna be totally awesome!"

I swept my arm out in a grand gesture around the room.

"I put my stuff on the top bunk for old time's sake, but I'll switch if you want," I offered.

"No, that's fine," Chris said. "I'm used to being on the bottom."

His voice hadn't changed – it was still as beautiful as I remembered. But now that I was able to look past my initial elation at seeing him, I could tell there was something a little off in his tone, and in the way he was holding himself.

"Are you okay?" I asked. "You seem tired, or something. I know it's a lot longer drive from Clovis than from San Francisco. Do you wanna take a nap?"

"No, I'm okay," Chris replied. He smiled at me, but it wasn't quite the crinkly-eyed smile I remembered.

"The rest of the summer staff won't be arriving 'til later," I explained. "David and Ryan told me they left a few horses in the corral, if we wanna go for a ride. What do you think?"

"Sure. Just give me a minute to bring my stuff in from the car and go to the bathroom."

…

Well, going for a ride turned out to be a good call. Being around the horses loosened both of us up – I stopped feeling like I was about to bounce out of my skin, and Chris finally relaxed. It was easy, then, to fall into conversation, reminiscing about all of those childhood summers at camp.

By the time we got back from our ride, Chris put my feelings into words perfectly: "I can't believe I'm going to get paid to do this all summer. And I'm really glad I get to do it with _you_."

**End Notes:** You _have_ to watch this video of Darren talking about being a camp counselor: youtube dot com slash watch?v=C23lbF5jrfU&feature= &t=4m47s Just take out the spaces, replace the dot with a . and the slash with a / and copy into your browser.

youtube dot com/watch?v=C23lbF5jrfU&feature= &t=4m47s He really does say all of that stuff about throwing rocks and playing with matches. ;D


	8. I Won't Bite

**8. "I won't bite."**

Darren's POV on chapter 8 of _As a White Knight on His Steed_

That evening, after we'd gotten acquainted (well, mostly re-acquainted, since we already knew just about everyone) with all of the other staff members, Chris and I returned hand-in-hand to our bunkhouse.

"Guess what I brought?" I asked him.

"A guitar," said Chris, glancing at the case leaning against the wall.

"Well, yeah, but that's not what I was thinking of. Guess what I brought to read?"

"_Harry Potter_?"

"The complete series! Last time we were together, we'd just finished _The Prisoner of Azkaban_. Do you want to start with _Goblet of Fire? _ Or should we go back to the beginning?"

"You mean, like, read to each other?"

"Of course! It's a tradition. You can't seriously expect me to read to myself, can you?"

"Of course not," Chris said, laughing. "What was I thinking? Let's start with _The Goblet of Fire_."

"Good call," I agreed. "Do you want the first shower?"

"No, you go ahead. I haven't even made my bed yet."

The shower was tiny, the water was barely lukewarm, and the pressure wasn't great, but I was too psyched to care. This was _our_ bathroom. Mine and Chris's. In _our_ bunkhouse. Our own private little spot in the middle of the woods, where we were going to get to spend the entire summer. _Together_. Hogwarts itself couldn't be more of a castle.

Speaking of Hogwarts, I couldn't wait to reestablish our nightly bedtime reading routine. While Chris was in the shower, I got out my copy of _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ and plopped down on the bottom bunk.

Chris emerged from the bathroom already dressed in his pajamas and sat down in his desk chair.

"Do you have a letter you need to write?" I asked.

"No," Chris said, still at his desk. "I'm ready for the story, if you are."

"Well, then, c'mere," I told him, patting my leg to remind him where his head was supposed to be resting.

Chris hesitated. What was going on?

"C'mon," I urged. "I won't bite."

When he just kept sitting there, looking strangely torn, I added, "But the _Monster Book of Monsters_ might!"

And with that, I leapt up, snapping the book's covers open and closed toward him.

Chris popped up out of his chair, and I chased him around the room, making my most ferocious growling noises. Chris was letting out these adorable little squeals, and trying to dodge me, but there was literally nowhere to go in that tiny bunkhouse. He stumbled, and I took the opportunity to grab him and toss him down on the bed.

"There!" I crowed in triumph. "Now, are you going to lie there and listen to the story, or do I have to let this book bite your toes?"

Chris was laughing so hard, he could barely speak. "Okay, okay," he gasped. "Don't let it get me!"

"Fine. But let there be no more of this silly sitting-in-chairs nonsense."

We grinned at each other. And then Chris's head was in my lap, where it belonged, and I was running my fingers through his soft, still-damp hair, while we shivered deliciously over J K Rowling's description of what was happening in the Riddle house.

Reading one of my favorite books, with my very favorite person, I was a happy camper.

…

You know what else made me a happy camper? Ryan had us playing all of these great team-building games the whole next day. Watching Chris open up and connect with the rest of the staff just warmed my heart. Plus, they were wickedly fun!

But the absolute best moment came that evening at dinner. Guess where Chris happened to casually mention that he was headed in the fall? _The University of Michigan!_ Where I'd just been accepted! We were going to the same school!

I may have gotten a little overexcited and accidentally shoved him off of the bench we were sitting on. _Ooops._ But I just couldn't contain myself. I mean, the universe had seriously outdone itself on this one. I'd been thrilled enough simply to be getting to spend the summer with Chris. And now the next four years had landed in my lap like the perfect Christmas puppy. Who _wouldn't_ be flailing around, knocking their best friend to the floor? (Well, not me, obviously.)

I couldn't believe he hadn't told me sooner. And I was surprised to realize that I'd never mentioned it to him, either. Clearly, we had a lot of catching up to do. But that was no problem, 'cause now we had plenty of time to do it.

…

That first week, before the campers arrived, just flew by. Somehow, Chris and I had learned (or, at least, I _hoped_ we'd learned) everything we needed to know in order to be bona fide riding instructors.

By Saturday, we felt like we deserved a break. So after breakfast, Chris and I packed a picnic lunch and took a busman's holiday – riding out on one of the trails we hadn't yet had a chance to explore.

Glancing over at Chris, I couldn't remember ever having felt so utterly content. He caught my gaze and raised one eyebrow in that questioning way he has, silently asking _"Why are you smiling like a complete idiot?"_

"I'm glad you're still my best friend," I told him.

His answering smile was just as big and idiotic as mine.

**End Notes: **Sorry I disappeared for a bit. I was too paranoid about accidentally seeing Glee spoilers to come online this past week. But now that the premier of season 6 has aired, I'm back. :D


	9. What If I Want To Kiss You?

**9. "What if I want to kiss you?"**

Darren's POV on chapter 9 of _As a White Knight on His Steed_

Have I mentioned that being with Chris was the best thing ever? No matter what we were doing, it was just the best. Dealing with munchkins who'd never been on a horse before, and taking them out on trail rides, and eating in the dining hall, and waking up at the crack of ass to round up the horses – I loved it all.

I most especially loved the evening campfires. Music has always been my passion (well, my _acknowledged _passion) so playing guitar and singing every night was heaven. I can play just about anything by ear, and I still remembered the words to all of the old cowboy songs from when I was a camper. I couldn't resist giving Chris a little wink-wink, nudge-nudge every time I launched into "Happy Trails"…

…

So here's the thing about me: as I pointed out a while back, I can be Captain Oblivious sometimes. But certain things are so glaringly obvious that even I can't miss them.

All week, I'd been feeling something prickling just under my skin, but I couldn't quite pin it down. On Friday, though, it finally came to a head.

Chris had hurt his back that morning, trying to lift a hundred-pound hay bale by himself. He tried to shrug it off and power through the day, but it was obvious that he was in pain. Even after taking a hot (or as close to hot as it would get) shower that night, his back was still in such knots that he could barely stand up straight. So, like any good friend would, I plopped down on his bunk and offered him a back-rub.

"I borrowed this liniment from Zach," I told him. "He swears it will have you feeling better in no time."

"Is that the stuff he rubs on the horses?" Chris asked suspiciously.

"Yeah. But it says right on the bottle that you can use it on people, too. C'mon."

Chris walked stiffly over to the bed and lay down on his stomach with a groan. I straddled his hips and began pulling up his pajama top.

"What are you doing?" he asked, sounding flustered.

"Well, you don't expect me to put the liniment on _over_ your shirt, do you?"

Chris grunted, and then shifted so that I could remove his shirt. He gasped as I drizzled the liniment over his back, but I could feel him begin to relax as I worked it into his sore muscles. I took my time, kneading at the tight spots until one by one I could feel the knots release.

Then Chris made this "mmmm…" noise, and – Oh My God – instant boner! I instinctively leapt off of him, and I must have been halfway up to my own bunk before I could even mumble something about hoping his back felt better. _Utter mortification_. I lay there for the longest time, unable to sleep, using all of my willpower trying not to jerk off.

According to a recent survey I read somewhere, 90% of teenage boys said that they masturbate, and 10% lied. Just kidding. I know that there actually are people out there who are asexual, and I don't mean to make it seem like I think there's anything wrong with that. I guess my point is just that I'm not one of them. Like, seriously not. I think sex is fucking awesome. But for me, it had always been a strictly DIY activity.

At that moment, though, my entire, vast store of obliviousness was crashing down around me. Chris was my best friend, but I suddenly realized that I wanted him to be so much more than that. Like, very, very, very, infinitely much more.

…

The next day, I was punch-drunk on nervousness and lack of sleep. Was Chris going to say anything to me about the night before? Should I say something to him? How royally was I likely to fuck things up? And why did he have to look so unfairly attractive first thing in the morning?

If my grandmother had been there, she would have said I was acting like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Which was actually kind of a helpful thought, since picturing my grandmother at least guaranteed that I wouldn't be getting any more inappropriate hard-ons.

All morning, I tried to focus on my work, but it wasn't easy with the relentless questions swirling around in my brain. Chris obviously could tell that something was wrong, but we were so busy with the horses, and the campers, and then the parents coming to pick them up, that I just shrugged off all of his attempts to talk.

I knew that I was acting like a nutjob, but I simply couldn't stop. By the time we finally got a break that afternoon, I wouldn't have been surprised if Chris was ready to slap me. Hell, I was ready to slap myself.

But Chris surprised me. Instead of trying to get me to tell him what was going on, he invited me to go out for a ride. Because he's brilliant.

Once we were on the horses, and away from the main camp, I was able to calm down enough to realize that I really did want to talk to him. I waited until we reached a secluded meadow, then slid down off of my horse and ground-tied her. Chris followed suit.

I'm not always the most articulate guy. I'm more of a blurter and a rambler, actually. But this conversation seemed too important to just bulldoze my way through without thinking. And the problem with trying to think before I spoke was that I was really confused. I felt like my brain had short-circuited, and now I just kept getting error messages.

Since I couldn't figure out what I wanted to say, I finally decided to go with a question. "Chris, can I talk to you about something?" I asked hesitantly.

"Of course. You know you can always talk to me about anything."

"How did you know you were gay?"

Chris seemed surprised by my query. "It was pretty obvious," he said. "I got crushes on boys instead of on girls."

"But how did you know they were crushes? How did you know you didn't just really like them, and admire them, and want to be like them? You know, like maybe they were your role-models, or something."

"Well, I've had plenty of role-models, like my Speech and Debate coach, or David and Ryan. But I never wanted to kiss any of them. If you want to kiss someone, it's a crush."

I could feel my throat closing up, but I forced myself to ask the next question. "What if I want to kiss _you_?"

"Then I think you should."

The blood was pounding in my ears so hard that it took a moment for me to register his answer, and another moment to wonder if I'd heard him correctly. I wrenched my eyes off of the ground and stared at his face. His cheeks were pink, his lashes were lowered, and his lips were parted. That was all the invitation I needed.

Stepping forward, I kissed him, quick, before I could lose my nerve. His lips were a revelation.

I pulled back just long enough to tell him "I think I'm gay."

"Oh, thank God," Chris sighed, and he leaned in for another kiss.

**End Notes: ** I wanted to keep the conversation from my original story intact in this chapter, with a change in perspective but not a change in dialogue. However, as I was working on this, I realized that although Darren identifies himself here as gay, I actually wrote him in Chapter 6 as somewhat demisexual. Of course, those two orientations needn't be mutually exclusive. I don't think that the 18-year-old Darren in this story is familiar with the term demisexual, though, and so he's identified himself simply as gay, based on the fact that he's attracted to someone of the same sex, without realizing that (in addition to not being attracted to women) he's not attracted to men in general, but just to Chris, as a result of their close emotional bond. Does that make sense?


	10. Really Complicated

**10. "Things are about to get really complicated."**

_Chapter Notes:_ Darren's POV on chapter 10 of _As a White Knight on His Steed_

_..._

When I kissed Chris, it was a question – and the answer was immediate: **_Yes!_** But when Chris kissed me, that was something else altogether. I found myself taking an abrupt step backwards.

I was so full of shock and wonder that I couldn't help stating the obvious. "You kissed me."

"Well, to be fair, you did kiss me first," Chris countered. God, I love that boy's snark.

"Yeah, but that was just to see if I had a crush on you. Which I…um…apparently… um…do. But I didn't think you liked me back."

"Darren," Chris said, half-laughing. "Are you totally clueless? I've had a crush on you since we were ten!"

"What?! Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Because you're my best friend, and I thought you were straight, and I didn't want to ruin our friendship."

_Aha_ – so apparently I wasn't the only idiot here. "Chris, nothing could ruin our friendship. You should know that by now."

"I hope you're right. Because things are about to get really complicated."

"Why does anything have to be complicated?"

"Well, for starters, Darren, we're not campers anymore. We _work_ here now. Did it ever occur to you that our bosses might not be overjoyed at the idea of a workplace romance? That they might feel like it's not appropriate for us to share a bunkhouse given the nature of our relationship? What if they decide to make one of us room with Brad, and the other with Ian?"

"Oh my god, don't even joke about such a thing!"

"I'm not joking. David and Ryan are cool, but the bottom line is, they're running a business here, not a dating service. If they thought for one minute that our relationship was going to interfere with our work, or cause problems for them with the campers' families, don't you think they'd do something about it?"

I gave Chris a thoughtful look. "Well, then, we'll just have to keep this to ourselves. We've always been so close, anyway, that no one's going to notice the difference."

"I hope you're right."

"Of course I'm right. Now shut up and kiss me."

Chris leaned forward, but at the last moment he pulled away, looking uncomfortable.

"Is everything okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," Chris said shakily. "It's just that I'm really new to all of this."

"_You're_ new to this? I just figured out I was gay like ten minutes ago. You've been out for years."

"Yeah, but I've never had a boyfriend."

"Well, neither have I, obviously."

"But you've had girlfriends. You have experience. I've never even kissed anyone before today, let alone done anything else. I just don't know if I'm ready for all of this."

Looking into Chris's uncertain face, the choppy waves that had been crashing in my mind all day calmed, and suddenly everything seemed as clear as glass. It wasn't complicated at all. Chris had been my best friend since we were eight years old, and he was my best friend still. Whatever else we had, that would always be the most important thing to me.

"Chris, baby, look at me," I said. I don't know where that term of endearment came from, but it felt right.

I cupped his face in my hand and gazed directly into his incredible eyes as I told him, "There is no 'all of this' except what you and I create together. We never have to do anything that we don't both want to do. And if you're worried about me having more experience, just 'cause I had a couple of girlfriends in high school, well, it never went further than kissing with any of them. I thought at the time it was because I was a good Catholic boy, at a good Catholic school, dating good Catholic girls. But looking back, I guess I was never interested in taking things further because deep down a part of me probably already knew I was gay. So I really don't have any more idea about what I'm doing than you do. We'll figure it out together, okay?"

"Deal," Chris said, and I thought in that moment that seeing him smile again was even better than kissing him.

Of course, in the next moment, I revised that thought…

…

I guess I was kind of naïve, thinking that everything would be smooth sailing now that Chris and I had confessed our mutual attraction. It seemed to me like our relationship should be so _easy_ – we already had the perfect friendship, and now we got to add kisses (and, eventually, whatever else we both felt comfortable with) into the mix. That could only make things better, right?

So I was taken by surprise, that evening, when Chris freaked out on me, seemingly out of the blue. I'd just finished showering, and I came out of the bathroom toweling off my hair.

Chris looked up from the letter he'd been writing. "What are you doing?" he squawked, with a tone usually reserved for someone who's about to stick a fork in an electrical outlet. He whirled around to face the opposite wall.

"Drying my hair. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"You're naked!"

"So?" I asked, honestly baffled by his reaction. "We've seen each other naked hundreds of times. What's the problem?"

"We were _kids_, Darren, and it didn't mean anything."

_Oh_. Well this was interesting. "So, you're saying it means something now?" I asked, trying not to smirk. I might like where this was going.

"It _means_ put on some _pants_, Darren! And a shirt wouldn't hurt, either, while you're at it."

Nope, guess I didn't like where this was going, after all. What was he making such a big deal about? I mean, the human body is beautiful, and being naked is completely natural, especially when you've just been in the shower. That's a totally organic experience, right? I mean, I always came out of the bathroom to get dressed. It had never been a problem before.

When I thought about it, though, I realized that Chris always changed into his pajamas while he was still in the bathroom. And he always had his head down, writing, while I was getting dressed. Maybe this shyness wasn't so sudden, after all.

Chris cleared his throat, still facing the wall. "Are you decent?" he asked.

"No. But I've got my pajamas on, if that's what you're worried about."

Chris grabbed a pillow off of the bed and threw it at me. I caught the pillow and whacked him with it.

"Hey!" Chris yelled, mock-indignant, "Knock it off, or I'll have to report you for domestic violence."

"Okay, okay," I laughed, relieved that he was back to his normal, playful self. I flopped onto the bed and picked up _Harry Potter_. "C'mere and I'll read you a story."

Chris lay down with his head in my lap, and I ran my fingers through his hair as I read. At the end of the chapter, I set the book aside and began to scoot down on the bed next to him.

Chris sat up abruptly. "What are you doing?" he asked, sounding alarmed.

"Cuddling," I answered, bemused. "We always cuddle after I read to you."

"Yeah, well, that was when it didn't mean anything."

"What is it with you and everything having to _mean_ something tonight?" I huffed. "Don't you want to cuddle with me?"

"Of course I want to cuddle with you."

"Then what's the problem?"

"The problem, Darren, is that cuddling might lead to other things."

"Chris, baby, we already talked about this. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

"Yeah, but maybe I _do_ want to."

"Then what's the –"

"Darren, if you say 'what's the problem' one more time tonight, I swear I'm going to smother you with this pillow!" Chris yelled, sounding exasperated. "The _problem_ is that just because I want something, that doesn't necessarily mean that I'm ready for it, okay? Now, will you please get out of my bed?!"

"Okay," I mumbled, standing up. I felt about two inches tall.

Chris looked contrite.

"Hey, Dare, I'm sorry I yelled at you," he said, standing up to join me. "I'm not mad at you. I just really don't want to rush into anything." He took a deep breath. "And when you're so close to me, it's hard for me to trust myself," he admitted. "Forgive me?"

"Of course," I said, relief flooding through me when I realized he wasn't mad. "And I get it. I promise, I'm not trying to push you into anything."

"I know," Chris said.

I wanted so badly to hold him right then, but I didn't think I could handle any more rejection. Thank god he made the first move. "C'mere," he said, opening his arms.

I stepped forward, and he wrapped me in a hug. I clung to him as tightly as I could.

"I warned you that this was going to be complicated," Chris told me.

"Yeah," I murmured into his shoulder, "but it's worth it."

**End Notes: ** I hope you don't mind that this followed the original story so closely. I'm realizing that that's probably going to happen quite a bit from now on. Early in the story, where each chapter covered an entire year or more, it was easy to add in extra stuff. But at this point, it sometimes takes multiple chapters to get through a single day, and there just isn't space for a lot of new material. So I'm hoping that switching over to Darren's perspective, even if the events are the same, will keep things interesting enough for you.


	11. This Could Mean Danger

**11. This Could Mean Danger**

Darren's POV on chapter 11 of _As a White Knight on His Steed  
>...<em>

There are lots of words I could use to describe those early days of my romantic relationship with Chris, but I think the most accurate word overall would be 'disorienting.'

Up until that point, I guess I'd been kind of coasting through life, never getting caught up in the teenage angst and drama that was swirling around. Sure, there were times (plenty of times) when things didn't go my way, but I always bounced back without much trouble. Basically, I was a happy-go-lucky goofball, and I was fine with that.

I'd seen my dad reading a book, once, with the improbably long title _Don't Sweat the Small Stuff… and it's all small stuff_. At the time, that seemed so obvious to me that I wasn't sure why you'd need a whole book to explain it.

This thing that was blooming between me and Chris, though, didn't feel like small stuff at all. And I really could have used a book to help me make sense of it.

The friendship part was easy. If there was one thing in my life that I was sure of, it was that Chris was my best friend. I'd never questioned my feelings for him, and I'd never questioned his feelings for me, either.

Once our relationship began to shift into more-than-friends, though, I found myself becoming insecure. I was thrilled to be with Chris, but the possibility that he might not feel the same way about me that I felt about him was terrifying. And yeah, I know that he'd said that he'd had a crush on me for years, but I was afraid that what _I_ was feeling was so, so much more than a crush.

This could mean danger. I could be falling in love, falling in love, _falling in love_…

And why, you might ask, would that be dangerous? After all, I trusted Chris. I knew he cared about me. I knew he'd never intentionally hurt me. But nothing in this world was more precious to me than our friendship, and (contrary to what I'd so blithely told him before this crippling doubt set in) I was afraid that I might ruin it.

Looking back, now, I realize that my worries were sparked by the differences in how Chris and I approached the physical side of our relationship. For me, the desire for emotional closeness and the desire for physical closeness were inextricably linked. When we were kids, that had played out in holding hands, and roughhousing, and cuddling. Now that we were older, and kissing had entered the mix, there was a whole new dimension to the physical-connection/emotional-connection feedback loop, and I just kept wanting more and more.

So here's where I ran into trouble. On Monday, after dinner, when Chris hustled me out of the dining hall, saying, "C'mere – I've got something I have to show you," and then responded to my question with a flirty wink and a "Wait 'til we get back to the bunkhouse, and you'll find out," – well, I thought we were on the same page.

I broke into a run, laughing and pulling Chris along the deserted path through the woods. By the time we were inside our bunkhouse with the door safely shut, we were both out of breath.

I pushed Chris up against the inside of the door, kissing him with all of the passion that had been building up inside me. His lips were so soft, and I couldn't help licking at them, tasting faint traces of syrupy sweetness from the canned fruit we'd had for dessert. Chris parted his lips slightly, deepening our kiss, and I began to explore his mouth with my tongue. It was a new and indescribably erotic experience.

Chris moaned and fisted one of his hands in my hair, a combination that went straight to my cock. I think I literally swooned. With his other hand, he grabbed me around the waist, pulling our hips together. Oh. My. Wizard. God.

I had a millisecond in which to revel in the shocking heat of his unmistakable erection pressing against my own before Chris gasped and pushed me away.

I panicked, jumping back quickly, babbling, "Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!" I couldn't bear the thought of him yelling at me the way he had the other night when I wanted to cuddle.

"Darren, calm down. It's okay," Chris said, trying to catch his breath. "I just need to cool off for a minute, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," I said, struggling to get control of my own breathing. "I really wasn't trying to push you, I promise."

"Dare, I said it's okay," Chris repeated. "It's not your fault. I just got a little carried away."

Then he laughed and said, "Well, I guess it _is _your fault that I got a little carried away, but you know what I mean."

"Yeah," I told him, relieved that he wasn't angry. "No problem."

But here's the thing – for me, it kind of _was_ a problem. And it seemed to keep coming up all week.

Now, let me be perfectly clear – this was _not_ about me being horny all the time (although, admittedly, I _was_). And it was _definitely_ not about wanting to push Chris into doing anything he wasn't comfortable with. I hated the very idea that he might feel like I was putting pressure on him.

No, the issue for me was that my physical desire for Chris was directly related to how I felt about him emotionally. And although I could completely understand, on an intellectual level, that he might not be ready for a sexual relationship, still, in my heart, I couldn't help but feel rejected any time he put on the brakes or pulled away from me. For the first time since I'd known him, I started to question his feelings for me. And that made me afraid of my feelings for him.

But not afraid enough that I could do anything to stop them. Suddenly, every cliché about love that I'd ever heard seemed to make perfect sense. The fireworks, the roller coaster, the feeling of being head over heels – yep, they all rang true. He made me weak in the knees, gave me butterflies in my stomach, made my heart skip a beat.

My head had always been sort of like an old-fashioned jukebox, with life as its song cue, and now it was in overdrive.

_Ever fallen in love with someone, ever fallen in love? In love with someone, ever fallen in love? In love with someone you shouldn't have fallen in love with…_

_Help me, I think I'm falling in love too fast…_

_Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can't help falling in love with you..._

_If I fell in love with you, would you promise to be true, and help me understand?_

_Birds do it, bees do it, even educated fleas do it – let's do it, let's fall in love..._

_Falling, yes I am falling…_

By the end of the week, I knew that no matter how much it might hurt to hear that he didn't feel the same way I did, I really needed to talk with Chris. I waited until Saturday, when we had the whole evening to ourselves.

Steeling myself for the worst, I asked, "Can I talk to you about something?"

"Of course, Dare," Chris said. "You know you can always talk to me about anything."

I tried to focus on his words, but it was hard to ignore the tension in his voice, matching the tension I'm sure was there in mine. I forced myself to go on. "You know how we've been best friends for ten years?"

"Mm hmm."

"And you know how we've always told each other everything?"

"Mm hmm."

"Well, there's something I've never told you. And I feel like I need to say it now."

"Dare, it's okay," Chris said, though he seemed to be radiating anxiety. "You know you can tell me anything."

"Chris, I love you."

"What?"

"I love you."

"Wait – that's _it_?! That's your big thing that you had to tell me? I love you too, you goofball! I can't believe we've never said that before. I was all prepared for you to confess that you were a serial killer, or something."

"You love me too?"

"Of course I love you, Darren. I've loved you since we were eight years old. How could you possibly think that I didn't?"

"But, Chris, I think I'm falling _in love_ with you."

"Well, good. 'Cause I'm falling in love with you, too. Now shut up and kiss me."

So I did.

**End Notes:** Here's Darren's mental playlist of classic falling in love songs:  
>Buzzcocks – "Ever Fallen in Love"<br>Joni Mitchell – "Help Me"  
>Elvis Presley – "I Can't Help Falling in Love with You"<br>The Beatles – "If I Fell"  
>Ella Fitzgerald – "Let's Do It (Let's Fall in Love)"<br>The Beatles – "I've Just Seen a Face"

**Do you know what I'm in love with? Reviews! ;D**


	12. Trying to Make Up for Lost Time

**12. "Trying to Make Up for Lost Time."**

Darren's POV on chapter 12 of _As a White Knight on His Steed  
>...<em>

Knowing that Chris was in love with me, too, simultaneously made me want to have sex with him immediately and also made me feel as though I'd be perfectly happy if I had to wait forever. Seriously. Once I understood that Chris's reluctance to leap headlong into physical intimacy didn't indicate any lack of interest in emotional intimacy, my entire sense of urgency was gone. That unsettling sense of disorientation completely disappeared. Chris was my true north.

It had taken all of the courage I possessed to say those three little words for the first time, but now that the dam had broken, I couldn't stop repeating them. Over and over and over, I felt compelled to say "I love you." And Chris always said it back, which meant that I just _had_ to kiss him, until something about the feeling of his lips meeting mine tugged on my heartstrings so fiercely that I had to pull away and tell him I loved him again.

It was a cycle that I could have continued forever, but eventually Chris held up a finger to cut off one of my declarations. "Let me guess? You love me, right?" he asked.

I nodded, grinning back so widely that my face hurt.

"So I've heard," Chris told me, in a tone that sounded equal parts fond and exasperated. "Over and over. And so I've said back. Over and over. And it's true. But come on, Dare. When you say something too many times, the words stop having any meaning. It's like leaving a song on constant repeat, until it becomes just background noise."

"You're right," I agreed sheepishly. "I guess I was just trying to make up for lost time."

"Darren, there's no such thing as lost time. Everything that we've said, and everything that we've done, and everything that we've been through, has brought us to where we are right now. And where we are right now is exactly where I want to be. So seriously, shut up and kiss me."

Now, who was I to argue with that?

Later that evening, after Chris had finished reading the latest chapter of _Harry Potter_, he clicked off the light and slowly eased his legs out from under my head before lying down behind me and wrapping me in his arms.

I hummed contentedly and shifted closer to him, but I was a little surprised by this turn of events. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Cuddling."

"What happened to your 'no cuddling now that it means something' rule?"

"I'm breaking it."

"What about being worried that cuddling could lead to other things?"

"Darren, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."

"What does that mean?"

"Just go with it, Darren. Go to sleep."

"Wait – are you serious? Are you really going to let me sleep in your bed?"

"If you stop giving me the third degree. Yes."

I mimed locking my lips and throwing away the key. I could feel Chris nuzzling into my curls before planting a kiss on the back of my neck.

"I love you," he murmured.

I was afraid to break the spell by speaking, but I squeezed his hand where it was lying pressed against my heart. My body melted back into his, the feeling at once familiar and intoxicatingly new. _This is where I belong,_ I thought, as I drifted off to sleep.

The next morning I woke up completely refreshed. I couldn't believe how well I'd slept. Lying in Chris's arms felt so right, but I had to pee, so I slipped out of his embrace and went to the bathroom.

I flung the curtains open to let the sun stream in. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I thought _this is what Chris Colfer's boyfriend looks like first thing in the morning… this is the face of someone who got to wake up next to Chris… this is the lucky guy who Chris is _**_in love_**_ with!_

The day (my whole life, really) was filled with promise. A little impromptu song and dance came bursting out of me as I left the bathroom and caught sight of Chris, still adorably lying in bed.

"Ugh," he groaned, opening bleary eyes. "How can you be so chipper at this ungodly hour?"

"Ungodly hour? Chris, it's eight o'clock! We totally slept in. Now hurry up and get dressed. It's a beautiful day!"

Chris slowly dragged himself out of bed. "Dare," he said, "I really love you. But you've **gotta** sleep in your own bunk from now on."

**End Notes:** Thanks so much for all of your reviews. They make me gleeful! **;D**


	13. I Promised I Wasn't Going To Push You

**13. "I promised I wasn't going to push you."**

Darren's POV on chapter 13 of _As a White Knight on His Steed_

_..._

Hearing Chris say that I'd have to sleep in my own bunk from then on put a bit of a damper on my exuberance that morning, but I was surprised to find how little it truly bothered me. I felt like nothing could really disturb my equilibrium now that we'd professed our love for each other.

All of my insecurities from the previous week seemed so silly. I realized – _Duh!_ – that Chris was not me. Just because when I was in love with someone (Chris, Chris, _Chris_ – _always Chris_) I wanted to be as physically close as possible every single moment of the day and night, that didn't mean that he did, too. And that was okay. What mattered was that he loved me. And I loved _him_ enough to want him to have whatever he needed, even if what he needed turned out to be me staying in my own bunk so that he could get a good night's sleep.

Of course, I did my best to negotiate for as much cuddle-time as possible within the boundaries of his comfort zone. After a little back-and-forth, and a lot of kisses, we finally agreed to a nightly snuggle-session every evening between dinner and the campfire. That way we could keep the cuddling separate from our tradition of reading to each other right before bed, and still end up sleeping in our own bunks.

The first evening didn't start out quite as smoothly as I'd planned, though. We hurried away from the dining hall right after dinner, and as soon as we reached the bunkhouse, I threw myself down on top of the blanket on the bottom bunk and patted the space next to me. "C'mere."

"Darren, get off of my bed!"

"You said we could cuddle!"

"Darren!"

"What?!"

"Look at your feet!"

I glanced down. "Oops," I said apologetically, sitting up and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "I guess I should take my boots off."

"Ya _think_?" Chris asked acidly.

"Sorry," I said, pulling off the offending boots. "I've just really been looking forward to cuddling with you all day. Forgive me?"

"Of course," Chris said. Because he's the best. He sat down on the bed next to me and took off his own boots.

I furtively brushed some dirt from the blanket before lying back down. Then I pulled Chris down in front of me, wrapping him in my arms.

"My turn to be the big spoon," I told him.

"Mmm, okay," Chris agreed, snuggling back against me. "This feels good."

"It really does, doesn't it?"

Chris interlaced his fingers with mine and brought them to his lips. I hummed contentedly and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.

After a few minutes, Chris rolled over onto his back and I snuggled against his chest. We lay quietly like that for a while, half-dozing.

Eventually I roused myself enough to ask, "Is it okay if I kiss you?"

Chris seemed to be caught off guard by the question. "Why would you even need to ask?"

"Well, we've never kissed lying down before. And I know that you want to take things slowly, and that you worry about one thing leading to another, and I promised I wasn't going to push you, so I just thought I'd better check."

"It's fine, Darren," Chris said, smiling.

So I kissed him, tentatively at first, and then with more warmth. Chris returned the kiss, and I was a little surprised to discover that it really did feel different to be doing this lying down. Mindful of Chris's desire to take things slowly, I was careful to keep my hips and legs on the bed next to him, and to lean on my forearm so that only our lips were touching. Still, just the sight of him lying there beneath me was almost unbearably arousing.

The sound of my alarm going off couldn't have been less welcome. "Damn," I said. "We need to go to the campfire."

I rolled over and allowed Chris to get up first, surreptitiously adjusting myself in my jeans while his back was turned. _Sigh._

The next evening found us cuddled back up together on the bed. This time Chris took the initiative, leaning over and bringing our lips together. I reached up, pulling his chest down against mine.

Chris sucked in a sharp breath, and I looked at him questioningly. "Is this okay?"

"Um, yeah…um, just…um, you know…um…" Chris stammered, blushing. It was the most adorable thing I'd ever seen.

"Yeah, I know," I smiled, bringing our lips back together.

Chris hesitated for a moment, then kissed me back passionately, all traces of shyness evaporating. I gasped as I felt his tongue tracing my lips, and he took the opportunity to lick into my mouth, sliding the tip of his tongue along my teeth and then flicking it over my hard palate. I felt like I was drowning, in the most delicious way.

This time, when the alarm went off, I wanted to hurl it across the room.

All week we kept growing bolder, allowing our hands to roam (above the waist, of course, but _still_) and our lips to wander to each other's necks and ears and collarbones (_god_, his _collarbones_). By the time the alarm went off each night, signaling that we had to go to the campfire, I was painfully hard. It was torture. The most wonderful, marvelous, exquisite form of torture.

By Saturday, I think we were both ready to explode. Knowing that we'd have the entire evening to ourselves, we showered and changed into our pajamas (which I'd gotten into the habit of doing in the bathroom, out of respect for Chris's sensibilities) right after dinner. Then we sat side by side on the bed, looking at each other with an equal mixture of hesitance and hunger.

I wanted Chris so badly, but there was something daunting in the knowledge that there'd be no alarm clock to interrupt us once we got started. I felt paralyzed by my desire. I needed him to make the first move.

Chris broke the tension with a laugh, knocking our shoulders together and asking teasingly, "Well, are you just going to sit there all night giving me puppy-dog eyes, or are we going to cuddle?"

I launched myself sideways, tackling him into the mattress, barking for all I was worth, and then licking his face.

Chris squealed, pushing me away. "Ew! Dog germs! Now I'll have to go wash my face again."

"Aww… Don't go. I'll kiss it and make it better."

Chris's eyes softened, and I kissed his (slightly slobbery) cheek, then his nose, and finally his lips. He reached up to pull me closer, and for the first time I allowed myself to settle fully on top of him. Chris sighed, hugging me tight, and I just melted.

Making out with Chris was like entering another dimension, where time didn't exist. I lost myself in his lips, his hands, the warmth of his body. Chris moaned as I nibbled across his neck, fisting his hand into my hair in a way that drove me wild. I sucked hard at a spot just below his ear, and was shocked when his hips bucked up, pressing his very obvious erection against my own.

I was just about to apologize for taking things too far, when Chris suddenly _growled_ and flipped us over, pinning me beneath him. He seized my lips in a fierce kiss, grinding his hips down boldly. I gasped in surprise, then returned the kiss with equal passion. I was completely out of my depth, and yet somehow my body seemed to know just what to do. Soon, we were rocking rhythmically together.

Suddenly Chris dropped his head against my neck, panting. I could feel him trembling all over, and not in a good way. I grabbed his hips with both hands, holding him still. "Chris, baby, are you okay?" I asked, concerned.

"Yeah."

"Chris, you're shaking."

"What?"

"You're shaking," I repeated, "and I think you're hyperventilating."

Chris took a shuddering breath, and I could see tears gleaming in his eyes. "Sorry," he choked out.

I felt a fierce wave of protectiveness rise up inside of me. Strange, because I wasn't sure what exactly I needed to protect him from. All I knew was that he was frightened and upset, and all I wanted was for him to feel safe and loved.

"Shh," I soothed, scooting partially out from under him and pulling his head down against my chest. "It's okay. There's nothing to be sorry about. You know we never need to do anything you don't want to, right?"

"But I _do_ want to. So what's _wrong_ with me?"

"Chris, baby, _nothing's_ wrong with you. Weren't you the one who told me that just because you want something, that doesn't necessarily mean you're ready for it?"

"Yeah."

"Well, something's telling me you're not quite ready for this. And it's okay. I'm not in any hurry."

"You're not mad?"

"Of course I'm not mad," I said emphatically, squeezing Chris more tightly and placing a kiss on his forehead. "I love you. And I'm happy just to lie here holding you until it's time to go to sleep."

I wrapped one arm around his back and ran the fingers of my other hand slowly through his hair. Gradually his quivering eased and his breathing returned to normal. We lay in silence for a while, and there was something infinitely precious in the way I could feel him relaxing against me.

"Would you stay here with me tonight?" Chris finally asked.

"I'd love to."

**End Notes:** I just want to say how much I appreciate all of you lovely readers and reviewers. You're the only reason I'm writing this story. Thank you so much for making me smile, making me laugh, making me squeal, making me blush… **3**


	14. What Counts as Losing Your Virginity?

**14. What Counts as Losing Your Virginity?**

Darren's POV on the beginning of Chapter 14 of _As a White Knight on His Steed_

_..._

I woke up on Sunday morning missing Chris's warmth. I blinked my eyes open to find him smiling down at me.

"Where'd you go?" I asked sleepily.

"I needed to pee. And I wanted to brush my teeth."

"Hmm, good idea."

When I returned from the bathroom, I slid back into bed beside Chris, kissing him on the tip of his nose. "Good morning."

"Mmm. Good morning."

"What did you want to do today?" I asked. "If it heats up, I thought it might be fun to ride out to the pond for a swim."

"I'm not thinking that far ahead," Chris replied with a gleam in his eye. "Now that I've got you back in my bed, and with fresh breath and everything, I'm in no hurry to get up."

"No argument here," I said, snuggling closer.

An hour later, we were still in bed, trading lazy kisses. I would have been perfectly content to stay there all day, doing exactly what we were doing. Eventually, though, Chris ended up on top of me, and began rocking his hips down against mine. It felt amazing, but I was worried that he was trying to push himself into something he thought I wanted.

I pulled away from our kiss, but before I could say anything, Chris reassured me. "It's okay. I'm ready for this. And I know that, if at any point I feel like it's too much, I can just tell you and we'll stop. So don't worry, okay?"

"Okay."

Chris brought our lips back together. I smiled into the kiss, feeling his answering grin. As Chris gently sucked on my lower lip, I moaned, bringing one hand to his ass, and shifting slightly so that I could pull our hips more tightly together. Chris thrust down, and I arched up to meet him.

It felt incredible, Chris's hard length against my own. Knowing that he was as turned on as I was magnified every sensation, until I felt ready to burst with the pleasure of it all. And then I did. And Chris was right there with me, crying out and stiffening and shuddering in my arms.

I barely had time to process what had happened before Chris collapsed on top of me, laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"I can't believe we just did that."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, it just struck me as funny."

I looked at him, then burst out laughing, too. I still didn't know what was so funny, but I was overflowing with joy, and laughter seemed as good a way as any to let it spill out.

Soon Chris and I were rolling around together on the bed, giggling uncontrollably. The lyrics to an old Elton John song popped into my head: _"Laughing like children, living like lovers, rolling like thunder under the covers…"_

But this felt nothing like the blues. I was over-the-rainbow in love, and I had all the time in the world to spend with Chris.

An hour later, we were both still feeling a little giddy as we stood in the empty dining hall. "Looks like we missed breakfast," I observed cheerfully. "Want me to make you some French toast?"

"That sounds great."

Chris followed me into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, watching as I gathered the ingredients. Once I started cooking, he wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder as I flipped the French toast.

"You're really good at that," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my neck.

"Someone's feeling friendly this morning," drawled Robert's voice from behind us.

"I just really like French toast," Chris said, dropping his arms and taking a step backwards. He was obviously trying to sound casual, but failing miserably.

"I can make more, if you're hungry," I told Robert, figuring food would be a good distraction and/or bribe.

"No, that's okay, I just came in to grab a snack to take out on the trail," he said, taking a couple of apples out of the bowl on the counter and giving us a knowing look before heading back out of the kitchen.

"Do you think he suspects?" I asked.

"He'd have to be blind not to. Do you think he'll say anything?"

"I don't know, and right now, I don't care. Breakfast is served!"

After breakfast, we made ourselves a picnic lunch. It was a little too cool to go swimming, so we saddled up our horses and headed out on a sunny trail along the ridge. When we reached a spot with a lovely view out over the canyon, we stopped to eat.

After we'd been munching in companionable silence for a few minutes, Chris turned to me and asked, "What do you think counts as losing your virginity?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know, for straight guys it's the whole penis-in-vagina thing that they teach you about in health class. But if you're gay, there's obviously no vagina involved."

I snorted. "Obviously."

"So, what counts as sex? Do blowjobs count? Or does it have to be anal sex? Or is it just any time two people have an orgasm together, or what?"

I considered his question for a moment. Because, for me, that morning totally counted as sex – the most mind-blowing sex I'd ever had. But I also planned on having even more mind-blowing sex with Chris in the future. I could already picture dozens of things I'd love to try, and I was sure that there were dozens more that I hadn't even thought of yet.

So, on the one hand, what had happened between us that morning felt hugely significant, and on the other hand, it didn't seem like a more cut-and-dried dividing line than any of our other firsts: the first time we kissed, the first time I told him I loved him, the first time he let me spend the night in his bed… Every first was special, and there were so many more first-times I wanted to share with him.

I finally came to a conclusion. "I think everything counts."

"So, does that mean we just lost our virginities together this morning?"

"Well, I guess you get to define that for yourself. For me, I'd say yes, I feel like I lost my virginity with you this morning. But that's just one kind of virginity."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I feel like any time two people experience something together that they've never done before, then they're losing their virginity to each other."

"So then every time we try something new, we lose our virginity all over again?"

"Yeah. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

"I don't know," Chris teased. "I wouldn't want you to think I'm easy."

Never one to pass up a possible song cue, I broke into the chorus of "Easy Like Sunday Morning."

Chris pretended to roll his eyes, then bumped our shoulders together and joined in.

**End Notes:** Darren's internal jukebox: "I Guess That's Why They Call It the Blues" by Elton John, and "Easy Like Sunday Morning" by Lionel Richie  
>You may have noticed that I didn't follow up on what Robert saw in the kitchen. I've got some ideas about how I want to work that into the next chapter, along with some new (and fun for all of you Starkids out there) material. So stay tuned. :D<p> 


	15. That Was Supposed To Be a Secret?

**15. "Wait – That Was Supposed To Be a Secret?"**

Darren's POV on chapters 14 and 15 of _As a White Knight on His Steed_

_..._

When we returned to the main camp that afternoon, Chris was nervous about running into Robert, worried that our little display of affection in the kitchen that morning had too obviously gone beyond our usual closeness, and that Robert would call us out on it. Or, worse yet, that he'd say something to David and Ryan.

I thought we had nothing to be concerned about, but Chris suggested that we should play it safe by keeping our distance from each other around camp. Which, considering what a smart guy he is, seemed like a pretty dumb idea. But, although I may be a blurter, I _do_ know better than to tell my boyfriend he's being stupid. So I took a more tactful approach.

"Baby, remember what happened right after we started doing this," I gave him a little kiss, just in case it wasn't clear what _'this'_ meant, "and we were trying to hide it from everyone?"

Chris made a little humming sound, but I couldn't tell whether he was thinking about my words or just focusing on the kiss. For once, I was more interested in making my point than in making out, though, so I kept going.

"You told me that Mark pulled you aside and asked if we were having a fight, 'cause he'd noticed that we hadn't been holding hands under the table anymore."

Chris nodded.

"Well, I figure the best way to fly under the radar is to keep acting like our normal selves. I mean, most of these people have known us since we were eight. We've always been super-affectionate with each other, and if something changed now, they'd wonder why. In fact, it might tip them off to exactly what's going on."

"You think that being less lovey-dovey around camp is going to make people realize we're in a relationship? Why?"

"Well, maybe not exactly. But they'll either think we're mad at each other, or they'll figure out that something else is going on. 'Cause you know how, in elementary school, when a boy started picking on a girl and teasing her, it was usually because he liked her?"

Chris ruffled my hair. "I'll bet you were never like that."

"Well, I never liked any of the girls that way. But you're right, I probably wouldn't have been a jerk about it if I did. After all, I had a huge crush on _you_ for all of those years, and I just followed you around like a puppy. But I might have acted differently if I was trying to hide it. Like, I'm convinced that Draco had a secret crush on Hermione, and that's why he was always calling her a 'mud-blood' and treating her like shit, so no one would figure it out."

Chris snorted, but I was warming to my theme.

"Come to think of it, I'll bet that was one of the reasons why you got bullied so much at school. I'll bet most of those boys secretly had crushes on you."

"Yeah, right," Chris said sarcastically.

"No, I'm serious. I don't think you realize how supermegafoxyawesomehot you are."

Chris raised one eyebrow at me skeptically, like he thought I was just making up words and didn't know what the fuck I was taking about.

"Hey – I said it, I meant it, and I'll say it again. You. Are. Super. Mega. Foxy. Awesome. Hot." I punctuated each word with a kiss, and by the time I got to "hot" he was smiling, even if he still looked a little dubious.

"All of those boys, who probably assumed they were straight, must have been freaking the fuck out over how attracted to you they were. And they didn't know how to handle it other than by acting like assholes."

Chris got a pensive look on his face, and I hoped I hadn't upset him by bringing up painful memories. When he spoke, though, it wasn't about the bullying he'd experienced.

"I guess I kind of did the same thing to you," he said sadly, squeezing my hand, "pushing you away because I was afraid of my feelings for you. I'm really sorry."

"Oh, Chris," I cried, wrapping him in my arms and holding him close. "Baby, please don't feel bad about that. You were scared, and I was oblivious, and we were both idiots, but that's all in the past. I wish we could have been closer when we were in middle school and high school, but we're together now, and that's what matters, right?"

"Right," Chris agreed, hugging me more tightly. "I really do love you, you know."

"I know. I love you, too. And I don't care who knows it."

"Well, you might not care who knows we love each other, but I _do_ care who knows we're having sex. And at this point, I hope it's just you and me. 'Cause if Robert figured it out and says something to Ryan and David, I'm afraid there's going to be trouble."

"Robert's cool. I don't think he's going to say anything. And even if he did, what did he really see? Just a kiss. It's not like we were humping each other in front of the campers."

"Darren! _No!_ Way to take all of the romance out of our relationship!" Chris tried to sound scandalized, but I could tell he was struggling not to laugh.

For most of the week, it seemed as if I was right, and that Chris's fears were groundless. But after dinner on Friday, Ryan and David asked if they could talk to us.

Uh oh. As we followed them up the stairs of the old farmhouse to the second story, where the camp's owners (first Uncle Mike and Aunt Lisa, and now David and Ryan) lived, I wondered if the shit was about to hit the fan.

"Don't worry," Ryan said, apparently sensing our nervousness, "you're not in trouble."

"We just wanted to ask you about something that Robert mentioned," David added.

"Um," Chris began, looking at me frantically, seeming to be at a loss for words.

I stepped forward, grabbing Chris's hand. "It's true that we're a couple," I said, pleasantly surprised at how sure of myself I sounded. "I hope that's not a problem for you."

"Relax," Ryan said. "We told you you're not in trouble. I just wish you'd felt like you could share this with us."

"I'm sorry," Chris said, finally finding his voice. "We were afraid that you'd think it might interfere with our work. Which I _promise_ you it won't."

"We're not worried about that," David said. "Being a couple has never interfered with _our_ ability to work together."

"Wait – what?! You guys are a couple?!" I blurted. I guess my days of being Captain Oblivious weren't over yet.

"Yes," said Ryan, smiling. "The older staff members – Robert, Zach, Ian, and Brad, who've known us since we were kids – have always known. And we haven't gone out of our way to hide our relationship from anyone else. It's just that we've always followed the example set by Uncle Mike and Aunt Lisa. They never engaged in public displays of affection, and in fact lots of the boys never knew whether they were husband and wife or brother and sister. We just figured that, working with kids, it was best to keep our private lives private."

"We can totally do that," I assured him, and Chris nodded his head in agreement.

"Good," said David. "Now, while you're up here, would you like us to give you a tour?"

"That would be great."

As they showed us around, I thought back to how Chris had mentioned Ryan and David a couple of weeks ago as people who were role models for him. Now – seeing this home that they'd created, and realizing how long they'd been together – I decided that I was glad to have them as my role models, too.

…

Coming out to Ryan and David about our relationship felt so good that Chris and I were excited to let the rest of the staff know, too. Everyone was totally supportive, as I'd known they would be. My favorite reaction, though, had to be Cory's: "Wait – you mean that was supposed to be a secret? I thought everyone already knew."

Before long, the only folks left to tell were my parents. I called them up, and as soon as my mom put me on speakerphone so they both could hear, I blurted out, "Guess what? Chris and I have fallen in love!"

There was a beat of silence before my dad asked, "You mean, with each other?"

"Yeah."

"Well that's great, honey!" my mom gushed. "We're so happy for you! Right, Bill?"

"Oh, yes, of course," my dad said, sounding a little dazed. "I'm sorry, you just took me by surprise for a moment, there. I didn't realize you were gay."

"I know. Neither did I," I laughed. "But I am, and so's Chris, and we're madly in love with each other. And guess what else? He's going to Michigan in the fall, too! Isn't that amazing?"

"Well, people do always say it's a small world," my dad said, starting to sound a bit more like himself.

"We haven't seen Chris since you boys were twelve years old," my mom said. "It's hard for me to picture him all grown up."

"Chuck's band is performing at a coffeehouse next Saturday night. You should bring Chris up with you for the weekend so we can get reacquainted," my dad suggested.

"That would be perfect! I know you're going to love him!"

"If you love him, honey, I'm sure we will too," my mom agreed.

**End Notes: ** Check out this video of Darren and Nick Lang talking about Draco being mean to Hermione because he has a crush on her: youtube dot com / watch?v=D5U9EIVvCOA&feature= youtu dot be&t=1m1s


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